Still Good, Still Here
by OceansAria
Summary: What if Anakin had not gone Dark and Padme survived giving birth? What if they got to have a life with their children? What if the Chosen One was still good?


**Hellllooooo, my lovelies!**

 **I know I disappeared for a while. And I promise, that unlike my other stories, both Empty Pages and In the Eye WILL be completed. School and work have gotten me off track. I needed a break from both stories to kind of refresh my mind.**

 **So while I was on that break, I got hooked on a new ship. I know it's not a NEW new ship, and I'm probably the last person in the GALAXY (see what I did there?) to jump aboard.**

 **So, yes, I love Padme and Anakin. (Anakin is finnnnee). And I wanted to write something AU about these two. Don't worry. It won't be super happy and fluffy all the time. It wouldn't be Star Wars without some tragedy here and there, right?**

 **Bear with me, though, please. I hope I didn't get any details wrong about this world but I'm just getting into SW and I don't want to screw things up!**

 **Anyways, thanks for reading! I hope you like it!**

 **XOXO,**

 **OceansAria**

* * *

Notwithstanding being severely injured in battle, both Anakin and Obi-Wan made it out in one piece and still Light at heart.

Senator Padme Amidala survived, beating her husband's devastating premonitions, though she did have difficulties in childbirth. She lost several pints of blood and had to be rushed into surgery immediately afterwards. Something inside had gone terribly wrong; but she would live to see her children grow and another day's dawn.

The two were in the same hospital, except they were on opposite ends, confined in separate wings, overlooked by entirely different staffs. Anakin was cuffed to his bed while his wife was restrained by pillows, sedatives, and droids. The young Jedi was questioned and interrogated within an inch of his life; Padme was given the treacherous news, that due to such a trying birth, her body would never be able to bear more children.

It was a hell of a week-and only the beginning of a very long-winded fight.

* * *

Padme knew full well that she was not supposed to be there, or even out of bed, but she did not care. She also knew that she should not have stolen her own children from their cribs whilst they slept peacefully in the hospital's nursery. Thirdly, she knew that if she wasn't careful, a med-droid would catch her, drag her ass back to bed, and sedate her into psychedelic unconsciousness.

 _She still didn't care._

Anakin was retained in the critical wing. He had been burned, battered, and nearly succumbed to both death and the Dark Side. The Senate and the other Jedi masters still were trying to figure out what to do with him—a life locked away in prison? Or would exile, or possibly execution, be more suffice?

He had done it all for _her—_ all to _save her_. He had spilled guiltless blood, all to keep her by his side.

Padme's attendant, Nanae, had outrightly said that she wouldn't blame the senator if she did not forgive Anakin, if she left him and moved on with her children in tow. Remarried. Started a new life far away from the General and his wicked ways.

 _But I do forgive him_ , she had protested even in her weak state. _Even if it's twisted, even if it is dark and evil, he did it for something good. For me, for our children. He did it because of love._

Yet, as she found his room without error or apprehension and came to the half-shut door, the young politician took pause.

What if Anakin really had changed for the worse?

What if her husband . . . wasn't really her husband anymore?

Too late now. She was here. She had come too far to turn back and act like she didn't care.

A sleeping baby in each arm, she walked slowly and deftly into his room, careful as to not pull at the stitches in her stomach or wake the children in her arms.

Anakin was resting as well. His head and torso were bandaged, but otherwise, he looked okay. She could not bear to imagine if things had gone a different way; if Obi-Wan had not showed up and fought, tooth and nail, to retrieve his apprentice and friend from the Dark Side's clutches.

Wires and machines and metal clouded her husband's bed. Even if his injuries seemed mild, his pallor was pale, nearly bone-white, all of the rosiness gone from his skin. None of the doctors or nurses, or even Obi-Wan, had privileged her with any information on the state of his well-being other than that he was alive, in critical condition, and under sharp watch.

"Anakin," whispered Padme, keeping her distance from the bed and all the terrifying machines.

He didn't stir.

Padme, hesitant at first, sidled closer and sat on the edge of the bed. "Ani, wake up."

Slowly, Anakin came to. "Wh-Who's there?" Fear and shame clouded his gaze when he looked upon his visitor. "Padme? W-what are you doing here?"

She forced a casual smile. "I came to introduce you."

"Introduce me?"

The words hadn't even fully left his lips when he saw the babies—both of them swaddled in thick blankets, curled comfortably against their mother's chest.

"Obi-Wan told me you were okay . . . but he didn't mention . . ." Anakin trailed off, glimpsing wide-eyed between the two bundles. _"Twins?"_

Padme couldn't help but laugh softly at his bewildered expression.

"Would you . . . would you like to hold one of them?"

The young Jedi took a deep breath that rattled his chest. "I don't think I should," he answered hesitantly. "I . . . Padme, I _hurt_ you. Which means I also hurt _them."_

Padme frowned. She didn't like remembering that from several days before. She didn't like to think about the hatred in his eyes, the blue eyes that had always, always looked at her with devotion and longing. Then there had been the ragged horror in his voice as he had screeched viciously at her, as he used the Force to strangle her, hurt her, toss her aside. That wasn't her beloved—that was a Sith using Anakin's body as a human voodoo doll.

"I've already forgiven you, Ani. They're children. They're innocent. They don't even know what evil is yet."

Dubious still, with damp eyes and a wavering confidence, Anakin held out his hands to receive. Padme beamed around her own withheld denial and handed over Leia. The little girl was dark haired like her mother, but blue-eyed like her father.

Anakin gently tucked the newborn girl into his chest and instantly fell under her spell.

"She's . . ." He gulped, looked up, and grinned uncontrollably. "She's everything."

Padme laughed again, although a little uncertainly. "What do you mean?"

"She's just . . . she's perfect. I've only seen one other being as flawless." Anakin, still in awe, lightly touched the baby girl's curled up fingers, her tiny nose. "What's her name?"

"Leia. Now, don't pick a favorite too quickly," his wife teased as she cautiously switched out Leia for the little boy, blond like his father already. "This is Luke."

Anakin bounced the half-awake baby on his chest and pulled him close to his face, examining every inch of him with a dawning adoration.

"Luke and Leia Skywalker," observed Anakin quietly. "The most daring, fearsome twins in the galaxy. Both fighters like their father."

Padme scoffed, fawning annoyance. " _And_ their mother, thank you very much."

"Of course," conceded the Jedi. "He's a very handsome young man. Like me."

"Mm. I thought so too."

"And strong—I can already tell that. He's going to be stronger than I ever was." Anakin trailed off once again, his voice growing dark and melancholy as he settled the baby boy between the crook of his neck and shoulder, fingertips stroking Luke's back. "Padme, I don't really remember what happened. All that I can . . . was like a never-ending nightmare."

"But it _did_ end," the senator urged. "It did, Ani. It's over."

The Jedi shut his eyes and bowed his head against his son's. "I killed so many innocents. Innocents like Luke and Leia."

"Ani, that wasn't you."

He didn't listen to her. Didn't even regard what she said; his mind was far too deep in self-hatred and sorrow, in regret and darkness.

"They did no wrong, yet I massacre them. I betray Obi-Wan, my master, my friend, and he saves me." Eyes flashing open, Anakin narrowed them at his wife and hissed, nearly accusatory, mostly curious and heartbroken: "How can you forgive me, Padme? After _everything?_ Time and time again I have proven that I'm bad news. That I'm more evil than good, more dark than light. Why won't you do yourself and our children a favor and _get the hell away from me?_ "

Padme gaped at him. Didn't he know? Didn't he see? Even when he had come to her after the tragedy of his mother's death and confessed _I killed them, I killed them all_ she had seen not a heartless, savage murderer—but a shattered, lost young man who needed another's heart, another's love, to call home.

"Because I love you," she exhaled in a sharp breath, touching his flesh hand on top of the covers with her free one. "You're my husband and the father of my children. I never once doubted that there was, and is, still good in you."

They struggled silently, a matter of wills, of stubbornness and ironclad notions. Eventually Padme triumphed, her solid glare wearing down her husband's offense as he settled back, content to hold his son and take her confession as law.

"I doubt the Republic will have the same notions when they bring justice down upon me."

"Obi-Wan and I will fight for you to be freed," Padme said fiercely. She retrieved Luke gently from her husband's grip, leaned in, and gave Anakin's cheek a quick kiss. "Sleep now. You'll need your strength."

Anakin's eyes stayed hungry on her face, on the twins. It went unspoken, just as their argument had, that he wished she didn't have to go, that he prayed for her to stay.

"I'm so sorry," he called after her as she exited the room. "I'm sorry for what I've brought down on all of you."

That alone confirmed her suspicions and silenced her downcast heart.

Anakin, no matter what the Senate or the Jedi or the public said, _had_ done it out of love.

He was not evil.

He was only a desperate man.


End file.
